Lost

"You're losing it. And when it's lost all you are is a loser."

-Watts, Some Kind of Wonderful

Last Saturday I got a call around 12:00pm. From my bank. Supposedly.

There I was minding my own business, playing some WEBoggle and burning some cds in my pjs on a gray weekend morning when my cell phone rang. Now, I don't generally answer my cell phone. My friends can attest to that. Text me, sure I will respond. Phone me, maybe I will pick up. I'm fickle like that. Anywho, there I am, acting out of character, answering the phone. There was a guy on the line who claimed to be from Bank of America and was telling me that my ATM/Credit card was being suspended and a new one would be issued to me within eleven working days.

Hold up.

Eleven days!?

Maybe I had been watching too many conspiracy theory type films but that just didn't sound right, let alone fair. Why were they calling me on a Saturday to tell me this? Doesn't that seem... fishy? It did to me. So I let him have it. I think I even swore. The swearing part is characteristic but the lashing out at a perfectly unsuspecting stranger just doing his "job" is not. Oddly enough, I don't feel all that bad about it five days later. Nor even in the moment. Something had taken hold of me.

I'll spare you the blow by blow. Basically, after I ripped that guy a new one, I called around in a frantic panic trying to verify that, indeed, my card was going to cease working that very day. Within the hour actually. Upon talking to another BoA employee, I confirmed that yes, I had 30 minutes to get down to my bank to withdraw money before the card went kaput.

Apparently there is this device that can be used by thieving meanies on ATM machines that can read people's cards and pin codes that then "compromises" the safety of your account because they may or may not have your private information. So then the bank has to call up all of us who withdrew money from there and void our cards, issuing us new ones.

This makes me very angry and really sad. We can't even withdraw money from a fucking ATM machine without worrying about identity theft or bank account fraud? What in the hell is wrong with people? And yes, there are far worse things to get all up in arms about, to bitch and moan about, to throw your checkbook at the wall about, but this pisses me off. For someone like me whose ATM is basically her only source of plastic, you kind of get screwed. Definitely inconvenienced. Certainly annoyed.

BUT THEN the card comes in the mail (within 5 days after I bitched them out). And somehow, brilliantly, after activating it and having it in my hands for a mere 5 minutes, I have lost it.

I am not kidding.

It is somewhere in this house. I have checked trash cans,the recycling bin, under the bed (Dash likes to steal things out of my purse and hoard them under the bed), in the fridge (I wouldn't be surprised if I put it in there) and in my underwear drawer (Why? I have no idea. I am desperate here.) It. Is. Lost. Supple comes over. She looks under couches and in the bathroom. No luck. Mike comes home and I give him the third degree. "Is it in your wallet?" "Did you accidentally throw it out?" He grabs a flashlight and braves the recycling bin outside, in the dark to no avail.

I am not well in the head. I have to put myself to bed. As I am grumbling and hanging clothes back up, he walks down the hall while encouraging Lou to "show mama." She prances into my room with the ATM card lodged in her collar, both of them beaming. Apparently it had inadvertantly gotten tucked inside a birthday card I received in the mail. While trying to clean up in an effort to locate the damn thing, I had hidden it from myself.

Thanks to Mike (and Lou) I was able to get a good night's sleep.

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The Last Five Things (phew! you thought it'd never end, didn't ya?)

1. I am friendly.

2. I am creative.

3. I am a good cook.

4. I make an effort to get to know people on more than a surface level.

5. I can articulate my feelings.